


For Him, For Her, Forgive

by softestlad



Series: he is my own [1]
Category: Emmerdale
Genre: Affairs, Angst, Cheating, Comfort/Angst, F/M, Family Feels, Future Fic, Infidelity, Late Night Conversations, M/M, Near Future, affair reveal, and i'm in hell, robert's in prison
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-16
Updated: 2019-09-16
Packaged: 2020-10-19 19:31:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,696
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20662547
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/softestlad/pseuds/softestlad
Summary: “It’s – “ Cain swallowed, turned to face Aaron with a whiskey glass perilously full and a tremble in his hand that only increased its risk. “It’s Moira.”“Is she alright?” Aaron clenched his own hand around his glass, flashing images of farmyard accidents, of Adam, somewhere Aaron couldn’t find him to tell. Cain scoffed.“She’s peachy,” he said, and Aaron couldn’t have called it for a thousand pounds when he continued, “She’s been having it away with another bloke.”--Cain knows about Moira's affair, and goes to the Woolpack. He comes across Aaron, and they have a conversation about cheating, forgiveness, and that Dingle quality of love that can bleed forever but never dies. A predicted/wished for scene in upcoming weeks.





	For Him, For Her, Forgive

To say Cain walked into the Woolpack with a face like thunder would be to seriously underplay the aura of pure destruction that whipped off him in tendrils. It was getting close to the end of the opening hours, and the rest of the punters, keen to avoid the lightning, cleared out in record time. Aaron stayed where he was, perched on a stool at the bar. He had nowhere else to be except a cold bed. Not any more.

“Where’s Chas?” Cain demanded. Aaron finished his sip, turning to his uncle.

“Out the back. Pissing, again, if I had to guess,” Aaron said blithely. He feigned disinterest, but truly each time Chas proudly announced her full bladder he felt a small, fractious quiver of relief. Babies squished bladders, was his understanding – it was a normal baby thing to do. A healthy baby thing to do. So if his mum had to visit the loo more often than a priest visits confessional, he couldn’t be anything but glad of it.

“Right.” Cain hooked an arm over the bar, snagged a glass, and pulled himself a pint before plopping himself down on the stool next to Aaron and scowling. More so than usual.

Now that Aaron really looked, he noticed Cain’s demeanour wasn’t that of his usual in any way. He wasn’t grumpy, or even angry. He seemed upset. His eyes were glassy as they were fierce, skin pulled tight over his face, and – oh. Knuckles scraped raw. Bloody.

“Take a picture why don’t you,” Cain growled out. Aaron ignored him.

“What’ve you done to your hand?”

“Hit something with it.”

“Something?” Aaron clarified. “Not some_one_?”

“I wish,” Cain gulped down the last of his pint, gone so quickly it was only a few seconds off of qualifying as a magic trick. He rounded the bar like a prowling big cat, something dark and deadly. He grabbed another clean glass and filled it with whiskey.

“What’s happened?”

“Why don’t you keep your neb out and quit mithering me?”

“Cain…”

“Aaron just shove off alright, s’got nowt to do with you.”

Aaron surveyed Cain’s back, the rigid line of it, his shoulder tensed and coiled ready for a fight, but that slight break in his voice gave away the game entirely. Aaron sat silently, just waited. He knew from experience that pushing at Cain when he was like this – much like himself – would result in a walk out at best, and a GBH charge at worst. And Aaron had enough of them ruining his life as is.

“It’s – “ Cain swallowed, turned to face Aaron with a whiskey glass perilously full and a tremble in his hand that only increased its risk. “It’s Moira.”

“Is she alright?” Aaron clenched his own hand around his glass, flashing images of farmyard accidents, of Adam, somewhere Aaron couldn’t find him to tell. Cain scoffed.

“She’s peachy,” he said, and Aaron couldn’t have called it for a thousand pounds when he continued, “She’s been having it away with another bloke.”

“Wha – “ Aaron shook his head, traced Cain’s face for any hint of a joke or a lie. “I – tell me that’s you havin’ a go at the side of a barn about it,” Aaron pointed at Cain’s bloodied knuckles. Cain looked down speculatively, lifting his eyebrows as though it were a new discovery.

“Caravan door, actually.”

“Caravan…” It clicked. “Nate?”

“Nate,” Cain spat. He glugged another wash of whisky down with a sound like a sink drain. “Go on then, you with the queer eye for the straight guy,” he sneered. “He’s fit, in’t he?”

Aaron recognised the jab for what it was. Distancing, protecting. Being a knob because it was easier than lying wounded in the sprung trap of love and begging for help.

“Fit for a hole in the ground,” Aaron said, dryly. “What are you going to do?”

“Cave his fuckin – “

“Not him,” Aaron cut Cain off, a dangerous move at the best of times. “Who gives a shit about some blow-in with the skills of a sheepdog and less sense. What are you going to do about _Moira_?”

“Meaning?”

“Well she’s hardly in love with him, is she?”

“And how would you know?” Cain clenched his jaw, filling his glass again.

“I’ve met the bloke mate, she’d have more chance falling in love with a mannequin.” Cain huffed a breath out that couldn’t quite be called a laugh, not when it was so bitter, but it was something. “She loves _you._ You and the boys.”

Cain met his eyes briefly before looking back down into his glass. The anger fled his body and the spaces filled up with weariness. His strings cut, he came back to Aaron’s side of the bar, sat down. He tapped his fingers against his glass, leaning hunched over it, wedding ring still on and still catching the light, somehow untarnished by whatever had happened.

“I thought she did,” Cain said quietly.

They sat a few moments, sipping their drinks, Aaron glad to see Cain had slowed down some. He knew as well as anyone that sinking poison to forget only ever worked for one night if at all. He had tried it himself for a few nights after Robert was put away, stopping when he came down for breakfast with a raging hangover and found Liv piling his empties into the recycling bin, grimly determined and, when he thought about it for a paralytically shaming second – probably tempted herself.

He kept the house dry now. It was best for everyone.

“What are you gonna do?” Aaron queried again. Cain shrugged.

“What can I do?”

“Only a few options,” Aaron said. “Leave her; choose between a messy divorce, or try and do the grown up thing and keep it civil for the kids.” Aaron swirled the last of his pint. “Or stay with her. Forgive her and move past it.”

“How?”

“Somehow,” Aaron said, unsurprised by Cain’s choosing the latter option. “Slowly, probably. Maybe talking to a professional.” Cain snorted.

“Have someone else poke their head in my life? S’bad enough when you do it.”

“See how far your pride gets you then,” Aaron said, stung for the first time in the conversation. It took a lot for him to get himself into a counselling office, even more to not let himself out of it. “If you think you’re too good for it. Forgiving someone in’t easy, not when they hurt you this bad. But if you really want to try and stay you owe it to yourself to go into it with the whole lot behind you, or you’ll spend the rest of your life wondering if there’s something else you could’ve done or tried to make it work.”

Aaron knocked back the last swallow of his pint. It tasted wrong, metallic in his mouth.

“I hate this,” Cain admitted, eyes fixed on the bar. “I hate that she’s done this to us.”

“I know.”

“But I don’t hate her. I still don’t hate _her_.” Aaron watched Cain struggle with finding the words without looking at him too directly. “Or I do, but.” Cain made a sound of utter frustration, something deeply pained and angry, the sound of a fraying rope hanging on by its last thread.

“S’how we’re made, in’t it?” Cain looked up, thick eyebrows creased low in question. “Dingles,” Aaron said. He counted them off on his fingers. “Lisa got back with Zak after everything, died lovin’ him with everything she had. The amount of pondlife Mum stuck by – it’s easier to get it now, why she did. It’s in the blood. Even Debbie and that toad – “

“Joe?”

“He made sure Liv got locked up and because of him she was alone when Gerry died. I said what I said.” Aaron looked over again and found his words seemed to be sinking in. “Cain it’s who we are. Dingles. We scrape and fight and bleed for what we want, for every scrap of life. And when we pick someone to love – that’s it. They’re it.” Aaron swallowed around the lump in his throat, shuffling on his stool. He exhaled through his nose heavily. It was getting late.

Aaron slid off the stool and threaded his arms into his jacket, feeling suddenly like life had wet its fingers and pinched out the flame in him that kept him going. He was insubstantial as curling smoke now, just one more sigh to blow him away.

“So I’m just meant to forget that she’s thrown over our family, our marriage, for a roll in the hay with that – hmph. That – “ Cain couldn’t get it out. Aaron shook his head.

“No. Only you know what you want. But I reckon I know you pretty well n’all. You’ll forgive her.”

“How, Aaron? How can I, eh?”

“Because she’s here.” Aaron caught Cain’s eyes, let him see in to the well in his heart the way he could see the pain in Cain’s, fresh wound still sluggishly pumping out blood. “Because she’s _here_. And you love her.”

Aaron clapped a hand on Cain’s shoulder, letting the touch linger comfortingly for a moment before withdrawing and making his way to the exit door.

“You’re a good lad,” Cain said, making Aaron look back, one hand on the handle, one foot out the door.

“Just don’t waste the time,” Aaron said, then let the door swing shut behind him, trusting that Chas would be there for her brother in his time of need.

Aaron stepped out of the pub into the chilled night air. It caught at the tears pooling along his lashline, prickled and stung. He pulled out his phone and stared down at the screen. Light hair, a small smile. Adoring eyes, all for Aaron. A sob pulled at the place where Aaron’s ribs became a cage and he squeezed it down into a more manageable shape. Thought of large hands on his face, a thumb swiping away the tears.

Aaron shoved his hands in his pockets, hunching up his shoulders and started to walk towards home. Or whatever he should call that place now, that place with cold sheets. That place with no lights on.

**Author's Note:**

> :( a problem shared is a problem halved [hands you this fic] here, have my problem


End file.
